Vanity mirror
by cornwallace
Summary: You think I'm beautiful, right?


She sits there as she often did.

Looking hard at herself in her vanity mirror.

Examining herself.

Her flaws.

Imperfections.

Going over every little detail.

But this time, it was different.

This time, she was looking past the surface. Not at her features, not for ways to improve herself with prosthetics. Not for ways to make herself feel better on the inside by looking prettier on the outside.

No. Not this time.

This time she was looking herself in the eye. This time she was questioning everything she was, and everything she had become.

Tears leaving black streaks of mascara and eyeliner down her soft, rosy cheeks. Lips swelling, eyes puffy and red. Filling with moisture.

She thinks about the week she had just endured. She thinks about where she is now. She thinks about the future.

Her mind wanders to who she was as a little kid. She wonders how she's changed since then. She wonders where she went wrong. Where it all went wrong.

Searching, she can't find an answer. Yet still she seeks one, searching deep within herself.

Where did it all go wrong?

Fists tightening, her right hand sweeps across the flat surface before her, knocking her extensive collection of cosmetics all over the floor to her left, clattering followed by silence. She breathes in deeply and heaves a loud sob as her forearms catch her head, as she tries to bury the problems that makeup can't cover.

In silence, Quinn Morgendorffer cries in front of her vanity mirror.

* * *

"Can you believe her?" Sandi asks her two loyal followers in utter disgust, head nodding towards the lonely girl sitting just three tables away. "Seems that slut doesn't even care about her appearance anymore. She hasn't done her hair in over a week. She hasn't even put on makeup. And those clothes? Please. Kicking her out was the best decision the fashion club has made in ages."

"I don't know," Stacy says, looking over at her. "I feel kind of sorry for her."

"Why do you feel sorry for that slut? She like, did it all to herself," Sandi replies.

"Yeah," Tiffany agrees.

"She didn't ask for that, Sandi. Nobody would. I feel like we should be there for her, or something."

"If you play with fire, Stacy, you're going to get burned. However, if you would like to offer your resignation to the fashion club, and go hang out with that reputation killer, be my guest. There are plenty of other girls we could find to replace you."

Stacy doesn't say anything. She just looks down at her salad, and silence befalls the table. The constant chattering of other students so consistent, it almost goes unnoticed at this point.

"That's what I thought."

After a few minutes of silence, Brooke approaches the table and sits down.

Smiling, she says, "I hear there's an opening in the fashion club."

"There sure is," Sandi replies.

* * *

Her cellphone is never on anymore.

It's not like anyone called her anyway, save for the private numbers spitting obscenities only to hang up immediately after.

Slut.

Whore.

Trash.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

She no longer sees a point in even trying. Her social life is dead.

Once arguably the most popular girl in school, and now everyone hates her. Everyone looks down on her. Everyone judges her.

Suddenly, there is a knock on her door. She doesn't respond.

She just sits, as always, staring at herself in the mirror.

The knob turns slowly. Door creaks open revealing her sister standing there. Expression unreadable as always. Not like Quinn was ever good at reading people regardless, though.

"Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"Mom wants you down stairs. It's time for dinner."

"Okay," she pauses, closing her eyes and tilting her head forward. "Tell her I'll be down in a minute."

"Quinn?"

"Yes, Daria?"

"Are..."

She looks up, turning her head slightly to face her sister. Blank expression on her face.

"Are you okay?"

A moment of silence, and she looks back down.

"Yeah," she lied. "I'll be fine."

* * *

"I'm so stupid.... I'm so fucking stupid."

* * *

"I love you, Quinn."

"Slut."

"I'm afraid we can't be associated with you. Reputations and all. You understand."

"Come on, Quinn. Nobody will see it."

"Whore."

"I'm sorry, Quinn."

"Why? You used me. So, I used you. Simple as that."

"You're so pathetic."

"Stupid bitch."

"Just shut the fuck up and take it."

"It's best if you just leave us alone."

"Worthless cunt."

"It won't hurt, I promise."

"Are you okay?"

"Pathetic."

"You can't expect us to feel sorry for you."

"You did this to yourself."

"You deserve it."

"You really are just a worthless slut, you know that?"

* * *

Her eyes shot open, and she could still hear the voices fading in her head.

Alarm loudly sounding.

She just lays in bed, ignoring it.

Time for school.


End file.
